


Here There Be Monsters

by GretaRama



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Carlos is a Good Boyfriend, Cecil Has Tentacles, Consensual Kink, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Kitchen Sex, M/M, Medical Experimentation, Morning Sex, Restraints, Sex and Drugs and Tentacles, So is Cecil, Tentacle Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-10
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-08 12:12:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4304532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GretaRama/pseuds/GretaRama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sequel to Devil in the Dark (http://archiveofourown.org/works/4100965), in which StrexCorp finds out that Cecil isn't the ordinary, nondescript person he appears to be and subjects him to evil medical experiments after taking over Carlos's lab.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Dear Team of Scientists,_

_StrexCorp Synernists, Incorporated, is pleased to announce that the Night Vale Children’s Fun Fact Science Corner Grant is now being administered by StrexCorp Synernists, Incorporated. We look forward to working with you!_

_For your convenience, we have already collected the results of your work to date, and have made arrangements to ensure that all future work will be communicated directly to StrexCorp as efficiently as possible. In addition, we have updated your research objectives to ensure maximum productivity and efficiency! StrexCorp is confident that you will abide by company policy and WORK HARD™ to adhere to the new, improved research design. We have also put in place security measures to ensure your compliance._

_Congratulations! And Get To Work™,  
Lauren Mallard and the rest of the StrexCorp Family_

Carlos read the scanned letter that Rochelle had just sent, opened his mouth, shut it, and read it again.

“I don’t get it,” he said into his phone. “What does this mean?”

“They bought the whole building - hell, they bought the whole strip mall. There was a guy from StrexCorp here when I got here this morning – Blaise something – and he said he’s the new lab manager and we all work for StrexCorp now.”

“But…how? And what’s in this research design they mention in the letter?”

“Oh, let me tell you about that fucking thing,” Rochelle said, and Carlos could hear papers rustling in the background. “It’s mostly a bunch of corporate nonsense language, but right in the middle, there’s a whole thing about mandatory employee health screenings. Every StrexCorp employee is subjected to certain tests. Tests that have to be conducted here, in our lab.”

“Okay,” Carlos said warily. “So…what? We have to conduct these tests now? We’re not a medical facility - I mean, we have team members with some expertise, but we’re not really set up to-”

“That’s the thing! According to this, the only StrexCorp employee who is currently scheduled for these tests is Cecil.”

“Cecil?”

“Yeah. And they have the lab requisition forms in here, and there is no _way_ this is routine. Other than a few standard blood panels…Carlos, I don’t even recognize any of these so-called tests.”

“But wait – why _only_ Cecil? That’s weird. And kind of alarming.”

After a long silence, Rochelle said, very tentatively, “You don’t think it might have something to do with his, um…non-standard anatomy, do you?”

“How would anyone even know about that?”

“I don’t know,” Rochelle said. “Look, Carlos…I know we kind of, um…overstepped, I guess, because we were so worried about you-” Carlos groaned, but Rochelle ignored him and continued, “-and I’m really, _really_ sorry about that, okay? Believe me, it was way more embarrassing for us than it was for you. God - _so_ embarrassing - But have you asked him?”

“Asked him what?”

“Uh, for starters, why he has freaking tentacles? That’s a little unusual, right? Did his parents have them? Do his sister and niece have them? Are there other people in town with similarly peculiar anatomical features? Does –”

“Okay, okay,” Carlos said. “No, I haven’t asked him any of those things. Cecil isn’t a science project, he’s my boyfriend. He _is_ pretty special, but other than the odd group of extremely misguided busybody co-workers, I’m pretty sure we haven’t had an audience. I don’t see how anyone at Strex could know about his, um, enhanced biology.”

“ _Enhanced?_ ” Rochelle asked. “Really? You know, I’ve wondered about that. Does he-”

“I am _so_ not talking about this again.”

“No, but really, is it _only_ when you guys are-”

“ _Soooo_ not talking about it, Rochelle.”

“Fine,” Rochelle sighed. “Anyway, I have no idea why they want to get their sinister corporate hands on your boyfriend, but they definitely do. Also, they’re instituting a seven-day workweek, so they were wondering why I was the only person here. I told them you and Cecil were moving, and everyone else was usually out at the Desert Creek subdivision, and that I only come in to check on some of my experiments on Saturday and Sunday, but…yeah. I guess no more weekends.”

“It’s a good thing I got so much done around here today, then,” Carlos said, looking around the sunny office. 

“How’s the new place coming along?”

“Oh, it’s great. I got almost everything unpacked this morning, so it’s finally starting to come together - StrexCorp already revoked Cecil’s weekends, so he hasn’t quite had a chance to unpack all his things, but once he settles in, I think it’ll be very homey.”

“Better than a condo?”

“ _Much_ better than a condo.”

As soon as he got off the phone with Rochelle, Carlos contemplated calling the other members of his team, asking if they’d been contacted by anyone from Strex. He stared at his phone for a few seconds, then set it aside, yawning. He had been unpacking and doing yard work all day, and the thought of talking on the phone – of doing anything, really – suddenly felt utterly exhausting. He texted Cecil instead.

_Busy day, think I might take a nap._

On the radio in the kitchen, he could hear Cecil’s voice saying, “That...well, that sounds nice. Listeners…I think now is the time at which I must say goodbye. There's a place here in Night Vale. A place I'd like to be just now…”

Carlos smiled and headed for the bedroom, stripping off his shirt and tossing it into the laundry basket before collapsing face down on the bed.

* * *

He must have drifted off, because the next thing he became aware of was the slight movement of the mattress, a presence next to him, and then a firm pressure kneading into the muscles of his back, Cecil’s hands, cool and smooth, working into his sleep-warmed skin. “Mmmm,” he said, swimming back to consciousness, stretching luxuriously. “That feels nice.”

“Good,” came Cecil’s reply. His hands moved along the column of Carlos’s spine, to the tight space between his shoulder blades, then out to his shoulders again. He paused to caress the firm round muscles there, and Carlos hummed in sleepy pleasure.

“You have the loveliest shoulders,” Cecil murmured. “Have I mentioned that before?” He traced the indents of triceps, the curves of biceps and the lean stretch of forearms down to Carlos’s hands. He kissed the nape of Carlos’s neck, then worked his way back up his arms and began massaging his back again.

This time, he followed a descending path along ribs and spine to the small of Carlos’s back, over the curve of his rear, down the backs of his thighs. “You have _really_ nice legs, too,” he added. “This whole thing, here,” and he ran a fingertip from the base of Carlos’s spine to the damp and tender place behind his knee, “is just completely breathtaking to behold.”

Something pliant and warm and strong wrapped around both of his feet simultaneously even as Cecil’s hands returned to the tightness in the small of his back. Something else took up the task of rubbing his shoulders and calves, and Carlos sighed as the tightness in his muscles was released, as his body began to radiate with a sense of sated wellbeing.

“I thought you were too lazy to be bothered today,” Carlos said, his voice muffled by the pillow. “You seem pretty energetic for someone who could barely move this morning.”

“I could barely move for StrexCorp,” Cecil said. “I can usually get going when it comes to you.”

“You mean that was all just...what? Like passive resistance or something?”

“Oh, no, not exactly. The sun _did_ go out, after all. It was completely black for at least a whole minute this afternoon.”

“It was an eclipse, Cecil. The sun didn’t actually go out.”

“Nobody can prove that I know that,” Cecil said. “They don’t teach astrology at NVCC.”

“Astronomy.”

“Whatever. It’s called a weekend. I can’t believe StrexCorp cancelled mine, and right when we’re trying to finish moving. Besides, it’s been forever since Night Vale had a town-wide sun destruction coma. It was high time, and they’re very restful. I feel completely recharged.”

Carlos rested his chin on his hands. “Rochelle called a little while ago. She said StrexCorp bought the lab, too. And that they want to bring you in for an exam?”

“Oh, that again,” Cecil said, a little testily. “They’ve been going on and on about some mandatory employee physical. I’ve told them we just moved into a new place, and that with the new 7-day workweek I just haven’t had time, but they’ve been incredibly annoying about it.”

“Have you asked why they want to test you?”

“No, but I’m sure it’s something to do with improving productivity,” Cecil said. “I mean, you know I love my job, but I’m really not sure StrexCorp understands the concept of work-life balance.”

Carlos considered worrying more about StrexCorp, but he was too tired, and the attentive tentacle massage was wringing out his ability to generate concern. He felt like he was floating, his muscles melting in response to Cecil’s ministrations. The last light of the day slanted through the blinds, warm and filled with dust motes, and the moment felt blissfully indulgent, too perfect to let worries intrude.

That word - _perfect_ \- made him think of the condos again. _To hell with condos,_ he thought dreamily. There were no tentacle massages in the condo, there was no Cecil, no love; there were only objects full of empty promises, the ingredients for an empty life.

One of the undulating limbs that had been pulsating gently around his calf released its hold on his lower leg and slithered up the inside of his thigh, where it rubbed tantalizingly against his groin. His body responded steadily, filling and tightening, need and pressure building, a feeling of want finally eclipsing his work- and massage-induced torpor. 

Cecil pressed feather-light kisses to the bare skin of his back, then leaned back as a tentacle gently rolled him onto his back and flipped open his fly. “It’s like unwrapping a housewarming present,” he said, as he peeled of Carlos’s jeans. “The _best_ housewarming present ever. Oh, look, someone got me an improbably good-looking scientist! I know _just_ what to do with him.”

“Cecil,” Carlos half-laughed, but then the tentacle flicked back to its intimate position and he caught his breath. “Oh…you really _do_ know just what to do.”

“When I came home today, and saw everything you’d done…the house looks so nice, and you nearly finished unpacking…I wanted you to know that I’m not taking you for granted.”

“Oh…. _ah,_ I – I can tell that you’re feeling appreciative,” Carlos breathed.

Cecil’s hands and mouth joined his other appendages in languid worship of Carlos’s body, slowly and lavishly adoring him, kissing, licking and caressing. A slick tentacle began a delicate exploration of the interior of Carlos’s body, pulsing and teasing, and he tilted his hips to take it deeper, breathing an incoherent string of words “ohcecilohfuckohfuckoh _fuck_ ” as he threw his head back into the pillow.

Cecil kissed Carlos everywhere, _everywhere,_ making small sounds of appreciation as he went. His pace was unhurried, his touch almost too gentle. It was a slow, sensuous seduction and the effects were gradual and cumulative. By the time he arrived at the soles of his feet, Carlos was hard and aching and he _needed_ Cecil inside him, _needed_... 

“Shh, there’s no hurry,” Cecil said, hands sliding along his shins in a soothing caress. “Let me take care of you...slowly.” He worked his way back up again, and by the time he got to Carlos’s mouth his kisses were no longer faint, fluttering things, but dark, gorgeous, deep-tongued kisses that made Carlos arch his back in frustrated arousal, and finally, _finally_ , Cecil seemed as urgent and insistent as Carlos felt, eyes blown black, tentacles scrolling in the sheets.

He pulled Carlos close against him, cradling him, Carlos’s back to his chest, backside nestled in the nook between Cecil’s belly and thighs. His breath hitched as he pushed into Carlos’s pliant body. The pleasure was sharp, immediate, deep. They stayed like that for a long moment, joined, hearts pounding. After a breathless moment, Cecil slowly pulled his hips away and a slender tentacle wrapped around Carlos’s length.

“Oh, _god_ ,” Carlos moaned, as Cecil pushed in again, sending lightning flashes of ecstasy trilling along his nerves, his muscles singing as if he had been tuned to receive waves of pure pleasure from the surrounding air.

The room was warm, a little stuffy even, their skin grew slick where they were pressed together, the slide and motions easy and sure, the fit of their bodies familiar. Tentacles furled and twisted in the bedspread and moved sinuously around him in loose loops. One settled around his hand and squeezed. Carlos squeezed it back.

Cecil’s breath ruffled the hair at his nape, and a slight tremor in his body spoke of an effort to hold back. That it was an effort, that Cecil wanted Carlos so badly that it tested his willpower, made Carlos’s heart race and his head spin. Cecil’s lips brushed his ear and he inhaled sharply, his skin so sensitized he felt like an overripe fruit, delicate and about to burst.

“ _Oh_ you feel good,” Cecil murmured, “ _Too_ good,” he paused, winded, and made a sound deep in his throat that was half whimper, half groan.

The rough edge of Cecil’s voice was as visceral as the deep-rooted plunge into Carlos’s body, and the combination of the whiskey-and-honey voice and the feel of him inside and the coaxing glide against his cock was all so _good_ , kept getting better, a push-pull sweetness that was rapidly becoming overwhelming. The entire center of Carlos’s body felt as though it were made of some hot molten substance, something that made his heart light and his limbs impossibly heavy. “Please, don’t stop,” he said hoarsely. “ _god,_ Cecil… _oh_ please… _ah_ yes...”

Carlos’s felt it when Cecil’s control finally began to slip, the rise in intensity, the tightening of small muscles in preparation for the shuddering finale. Carlos relaxed into the erotic onslaught, letting his climax come, letting it hit him head-on. Cecil gave a final, stuttering thrust inside him, a clench and release of tension, and suddenly Carlos was adrift on a swell of physical joy.

His last memory before the oblivion of sleep was settling back into Cecil’s arms, being cuddled close, gentle hands smoothing his hair. Neither of them said anything, and neither of them needed to.

* * *

The following day, Carlos arrived at work to find the lab rearranged. The pushed-together tables that formed their communal workspace were gone, replaced by a cluster of fabric-walled pods, and cardboard boxes labeled “StrexMed” and “StrexCorp Scientific: Making Science WORK” were stacked along one wall. Where each of the scientists’ private offices had been, walls had been knocked out and a brightly-lit glass-walled laboratory had been constructed. Two men in yellow lab coats were inside, looking at something on a computer screen.

“Rochelle?” Carlos called.

“I’m over here.” Carlos turned to see hands waving above one of the newly-installed pod walls.

“These pods are ridiculous,” she said, once Carlos had found his way to her cubicle.

“This whole thing is ridiculous,” Carlos agreed. “Where’s our equipment? Who are those two guys in the other room?”

“Blaise and some other Strex stooge,” Rochelle asked, her voice lowering. “A truck delivered a bunch of new equipment this morning and they took all our old stuff – I don’t know why. Did you see what they did to the lab? It looks like the set of a sci-fi movie.”

“Yeah, and I’m wondering what they’re planning to do with it,” Carlos said. 

“There’s no need to wonder,” said a voice from behind him. “It’s all explained in our research design.”

Carlos turned to find one of the men in yellow lab coats standing in the entryway of Rochelle’s pod. He was smiling brightly, but his eyes seemed strangely flat, and although his clothes were neatly pressed and tailored to conservative perfection, he seemed to have spilled barbecue sauce all over the front of his shirt.

“I’m Blaise, the new lab manager,” he said, extending a hand in Carlos’s direction. “You must be Carlos! I’ve heard so much about you.” He pumped Carlos’s hand up and down vigorously.

“Um, yeah,” Carlos said, pulling his hand away. “What’s going on? Nobody said anything to me about the building being sold, and we really work better with an open workspace and individual offices, so if you could -”

“We can talk about all that, sure,” Blaise said, smiling. “As soon as you get Cecil Palmer in here for a few simple tests.”

“Yeah, look, about that -” Carlos began, but Blaise took hold of Carlos’s elbow and pulled him away from Rochelle’s pod.

“Listen,” he said. “StrexCorp requires every employee to submit some baseline data for their formal record of employment. I hate to make such a big deal out of this - it’s all routine, nothing unusual! So we really do need you to get Mr. Palmer in here as soon as possible – let’s say today – and administer the following tests.” He handed Carlos a sheet of paper from the clipboard.

Carlos scanned the sheet, eyes widening. “None of this looks like anything an employer would ever need to know,” he said. “This is all pretty invasive, actually. I don’t even know what some of this is, and...wow, that’s a LOT of blood to draw in one sitting. Why would you need so much?”

“At StrexCorp, we’re always striving to go above and beyond what’s expected,” Blaise said. “If you examine the StrexCorp employment contract, you’ll see-”

“But Cecil never signed a contract,” Carlos protested. “None of us did.”

“Oh, now, I do hate to contradict you, but we absolutely _do_ have contracts for each and every Strex employee, vetted by our very own in-house legal team. Let me just see – ah, yes, there we go!” He pulled another piece of paperwork from the clipboard and brandished it in front of Carlos. “There’s your signature, right there!”

“How did you get that?” Carlos demanded.

“It’s on file with our HR department,” Blaise replied blandly. “But listen, let’s not stand here disagreeing – divisions in the upper management are a disservice to the whole team! I want us to get along, to work together! Just get Mr. Palmer over here and let’s get it over with, okay?”

“It wouldn’t be ethical,” Carlos said. “I’m personally involved with Cecil, I can’t run any tests on him.”

“Carlos,” Blaise said, placing a hand on Carlos’s shoulder. “I’m trying to make this easy on everyone – on you, on Mr. Palmer, and on StrexCorp. It would really be for the best if you just cooperated, okay? Because we _do_ have alternatives. And I promise you,” he stopped smiling and met Carlos’s eyes, “I _promise_ you, if you make us wait too long, both you and Mr. Palmer will regret it.” He patted Carlos’s shoulder lightly and smiled again. “I hope that clarifies things for you! I know transitions in leadership can be tricky, but I think we’re going to get along just fine.”

As he disappeared back into the cubicle maze, Rochelle rolled her chair to the edge of her pod.

“See?” she whispered. “What do we do?”

“Right now? I’m going to freak out for a few minutes,” he said, smiling weakly. “Then I think I need to talk to Cecil.”

* * *

“I’ll come in,” Cecil said, as soon as Carlos described his interaction with Blaise. “It’s just tests, it doesn’t matter.”

“But Cecil,” Carlos said. “I saw the list of things they’re planning to do, and it’s crazy - I don’t understand what they’re trying to find out, but they’re willing to be incredibly invasive - even reckless - to do it. I don’t trust them.”

“I understand all that,” Cecil said. “But they threatened you.”

“I think the threat was mostly to you, actually,” Carlos pointed out. “I’m just saying, the more this Blaise guy tried to persuade me to get you into the lab, the more I became convinced that you should _not_ come here.”

“But what else can I do? I can’t just leave my job, and if it’s a requirement…well, requirements are required, right? That’s why they call them requirements.”

“I don’t know,” Carlos said bleakly. “I’ll try to think of something.”

“Fine, good,” Cecil said. “But in the meantime, I’m just going to plan to come down there after work. Let’s not give them a reason to issue any more threats.”

“Cecil, no, I really think-”

“Carlos,” Cecil said, his voice gentle. “It’s just tests, right? It’s fine, and it’s at your lab, it’s not like they’re taking me to the abandoned mineshaft outside of town. In fact, nobody is talking about taking me anywhere. It’s not like our usual annual physicals, where they sneak up behind you, throw a hood over your head and wrestle you into the back of an unmarked van. And they could do that if they wanted – there must be about 25 new Strex employees here at the station, they could easily overpower me if they tried.”

Carlos sighed. “I don’t like this, Cecil. It doesn’t feel right to me, not at all.”

“I admit, it feels a little unnatural to me, too, without the hood and the van and all, but I’m sure I’ll get used to it.”

“But why is it _just_ you? Doesn’t that worry you?”

“Of course it does, but what can I do? I’ll see you tonight after work, okay?”

“I’m in the field today, but I’ll back here by the time you’re off work. If you’re sure?”

“I’m sure - I’d just like to get it over with. They’ve been unbelievably fussy about it at work all day.”

“All right,” Carlos said reluctantly. As he hung up the phone, he caught a flash of yellow out of the corner of his eye. He turned in his pod. There was nobody there, but a chill ran down Carlos’s spine all the same.

* * *

Carlos spent the afternoon with the two-person team monitoring the mysterious house that didn’t exist, trying to ignore the security detail posted by StrexCorp. He got caught up in the details of the team’s latest experiments and observations, and only noticing how much time had passed when he realized it had almost gotten dark.

He checked his cellphone. Since gifting his watch to Cecil, he set alarms on his phone to keep himself on schedule. Now, though, his phone’s screen was black, and didn’t light up when he pressed the power button.

“What time is it?” he demanded of one of the other scientists.

“Who knows?” The woman shrugged. “My watch says 7:30, but you know how it is around here - your guess is as good as mine.”

Carlos didn’t really need to know the exact time, he could tell by the gathering darkness that he was late to meet Cecil at the lab. He stood, tossing his things frantically into his knapsack. “I’ve got to go,” he said, pushing past the Strex Guards that had been posted on the sidewalk. Or at least, trying to push past them.

“What’s the rush?” The first guard asked, stopping him with a hand on his arm.

Carlos stared at his arm where the guard’s hand was clamped around it. “I’ve got to get back to the lab,” he said, pulling on his arm but not managing to free it from the guard’s grasp.

“Not what I was told,” The guard said. “Might as well get back to work.”

“What? No, there’s been some mistake,” Carlos protested, struggling harder. “I’ve got to go, I’m supposed to meet someone.”

“If it’s important, I’m sure they’ll wait. Or someone at the lab can let them know where you are.”

“But why?” Carlos argued. “Why not just let me keep my appointment?”

“Not my business,” the guard said. His voice had been flat and affectless up to that point, but now he turned to Carlos, and said in a hushed, urgent tone, “Look, buddy, I get that you’re in a hurry, and I’d love to help you out, but it’s not worth the consequences for either of us for me to let you go right now. Do us both a favor and chill out, okay?”

Shaken by the guard’s serious tone, Carlos gave up his struggles and nodded. “Okay,” he said. “But it’s my boyfriend. Can I at least call?”

The guard shrugged and shook his head sadly. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I can’t even call out to our headquarters right now.” He held up his walkie-talkie and clicked the button to open a channel. There was no sound of static, and the red indicator light was dark. “See? Nothing’s getting in or out. We all stay here until I get word otherwise.”

“They’re doing something to him, aren’t they.” It wasn’t a question. The guard shrugged and Carlos’s shoulders slumped. “How much time did they ask for?” he demanded. “An hour? More?”

“Man, I’m telling you, I don’t know. I’m just supposed to keep everybody here until they give me the word. I’m sorry,” he added, and Carlos heard a note of compassion in his voice. “Look, it’s usually fine as long as long as you go along to get along, know what I mean? Do you think your boyfriend can do that? ‘Cause if he can, he’ll be fine.”

“I don’t know,” Carlos said, his heart sinking. “A year ago, I’d have said ‘yes’ for sure, but now…I just don’t know.”

* * *

Cecil opened the door to the lab and stepped inside. “Carlos?” he called, walking into the newly arranged space, glancing around pod walls. “Carlos? Anyone? Is anybody here?”

“Ah, good, Mr. Palmer, you’re here.” A man in a yellow lab coat emerged from behind one of the pod walls and approached Cecil, hand extended. “I’m Blaise, the new lab manager. I’m afraid Carlos couldn’t be here to meet you.”

Cecil shook the man’s hand absently. “Why not? Where is he? I can always come back some other-”

“No, no, no need to go out of your way. We’re perfectly capable of accommodating you without him. We wouldn’t want to cause any further delays, would we?”

“I…I guess not?”

“Of course we wouldn’t. Right this way, please,” he gestured toward a pair of glass doors that led into the brightly lit laboratory.

Cecil glanced over his shoulder as Blaise ushered him inside, and spotted three members of Carlos’s team of scientists, Pritha, Jamahn, and Rochelle, peering around the walls of their cubicles. Rochelle made eye contact with Cecil, holding a finger to her lips. He looked away quickly, hoping Blaise hadn’t noted his expression of surprised recognition.

Blaise shut the glass doors behind them and held one hand out toward the chair bolted to the floor in the center of the room. It looked like a dentist’s chair, except that it had metal restraints attached to the arm and foot rests.

“Um…”

“Don’t be alarmed, Mr. Palmer,” Blaise said. “The restraints are just to make sure you don’t move too much during the examination. And to make sure you don’t give us too much trouble,” He laughed as if this were a joke, but the laughter rang false and Cecil swallowed with a click.

“You know, I think I’d rather wait until Carlos gets back. He has such a nice bedside manner, and I’d really prefer-”

“No, I’m afraid that really won’t work for us.” Two more men in yellow lab coats emerged from a door on the other side of the lab. Despite their attire, they didn’t look like scientists; they were large, broad-shouldered, with the flat eyes and rugged features of seasoned boxers or nightclub bouncers.

“If you wouldn’t mind taking off your shirt, please, Mr. Palmer?” 

Cecil eyed Blaise warily, but he unbuttoned the shirt and folded it neatly, setting it down on a chair along the wall. 

“Excellent. Take a seat, Mr. Palmer, and let’s get started,” Blaise said. Cecil sat in the exam chair, eyeing the two burly “scientists” uneasily. Blaise rolled a small computer station to Cecil’s side and began attaching electrodes to his chest and arms. Once they were all connected, Blaise flipped several switches and a regular _blip...blip...blip_ sounded from the machine. “This is just to monitor you throughout the procedures,” Blaise explained. 

“And what, exactly, _are_ the procedures you’ll be performing?’ Cecil asked. “The notices I received were a little vague on that part.”

“That’s complicated,” Blaise said. “Probably easier just to show you.” He stood, glancing at the two large men, and they stepped forward, each clamping a hand onto one of Cecil’s shoulders.

“Um, I wasn’t planning to go anywhere,” Cecil said. “Is this necessary?”

“We’ll see,” Blaise said. He held up a thumb drive. “This is a video that was taken at the recent opening of the Condo Rental Office,” he said. He stuck the device into a computer hard drive and cued up the video. 

As he fast-forwarded, Cecil saw the entire day of the condo rental race by on the computer screen; Roger Singh waving the spinal column, Janis Rio bouncing up and down excitedly, Samantha Guzman poking one hand through the dark membrane of the condo and struggling against its forceful pull. Then he saw Carlos step into one of the dark cubes, where he hung, suspended in the center, like a fly in gelatin.

Blaise stopped fast-forwarding and let the recording play. “This is where it gets interesting,” he said. “See? There you are. You enter the condo - perfectly normal, nothing out of the ordinary. But then - uh-oh, look there! You’ve taken hold of Carlos, and you’re trying to pull him out. It must have been very difficult, you really look like you’re struggling, and of course it should not have been possible for you to depart the condo at this time,” Blaise ticked a finger back and forth as if he were admonishing a naughty child. “And then...things started to get _really_ interesting.”

* * *

“What are they doing?” Pritha whispered. “Can you hear anything?” She leaned closer behind Rochelle.

“I don’t know,” Rochelle answered quietly. “If I try to see more, they’ll be able to see me. I can’t hear a damn thing. Have you been able to reach Carlos?”

“Nothing,” Pritha said. “All my texts failed, his phone must be off or something.”

“One of us should go out there,” Jamahn said. “Carlos has been really good about making his appointments lately, especially with Cecil. Want me to head out and see what’s holding him up?”

“Would you?” Rochelle asked. “We’ll stay here and keep an eye on Cecil. Call as soon as you get out there. And be careful,” she added. “Something weird is going on.”

Jamahn nodded and left, taking care to avoid being seen by the men inside the brightly-lit lab.

“What are they doing?” Pritha asked, trying to peer around Rochelle’s shoulder to see.

“They’re talking; Cecil looks nervous, he’s all hooked up to some machine. Blaise has a thumb drive or something, he’s plugging it into one of the computers.”

“Can you see the screen?”

“Barely, but yes,” Rochelle said. “It looks like a security tape. It’s…oh. Okay, all I see is a big black cube.”

“One of the condos?” Pritha asked. “Oh, just let me look for a second.” They switched places and Pritha carefully leaned forward until she could see the scene inside the lab. Cecil was being held down by two large men, while Blaise pointed at something on the computer screen. Pritha squinted and gasped. “Oh! It’s Carlos, and he’s approaching the cube – it’s definitely one of the condos. He’s stepping inside.”

“So what?” Rochelle asked. “That’s not a secret. It was on the radio. Tons of people were there.”

“Wait- he’s skipping forward now. Cecil just got there – he’s running around the outside of the cube, and now he’s going inside, too. He’s…oh. _Oh_ …oh, no.”

“What, for god’s sake?” Rochelle demanded. Pritha stepped away and pushed Rochelle forward so she could see. Rochelle watched for several seconds, then slumped back against the wall.

“Well, fuck,” she said.

* * *

Jamahn parked his car two blocks away from the House That Doesn’t Exist and cut across the narrow strip of cottonwood trees that separated the back yards of one row of houses from those on the adjacent street. He had just made it into the backyard of a house with a view of the picnic pavilion when his phone buzzed. He pulled it out of his pocket and pressed it to his ear.

“Have you found Carlos yet?” It was Pritha’s voice.

Jamahn edged around the house and looked down the street. “I just got close,” he said. “Jeez - there are Strex guards all over the street, and Carlos and the rest of the team are in that picnic shelter across the road. Looks like he’s stuck here. Has he answered any of your calls?”

“No, I assume his phone is dead.” Just then, Jamahn’s own phone fizzed with static. He stopped moving, took several steps back, and the connection grew clearer.

“They must have some kind of jammer going,” he said. “I think I almost lost you just now.”

“Blaise took Cecil into the lab, and he has two huge flunkies holding him down. I think he’s in trouble,” Pritha said. “They brought in a security recording of Cecil getting Carlos out of the condo a few weeks back. Once he was inside the condo, he started to struggle, and then he couldn’t quite get to Carlos, and then…well. That thing that happened to him before? With the, um…”

“Right,” Jamahn said quickly, shivering. “Release the Kraken.”

“Exactly. He… _changed,_ and then he was able to pull himself through the condo and get Carlos. It looked like he was trying to walk through tar or something. He carried Carlos out, and as soon as they were clear of the condo...they had a pretty epic makeout session and then, once he and Carlos cooled off a little, the, uh...extra parts... just sort of retracted.”

“Gross.”

“Yeah. But that’s not the point. The point is, Strex is interested in Cecil for tentacular reasons.”

“I don’t think I can get to Carlos without getting caught up in whatever is going on out here. I’m not kidding, there must be about 30 guards surrounding the picnic shelter. I can get to him, but I won’t be able to receive your calls, and I probably won’t be back any time soon. What are they doing to Cecil?”

“Nothing serious, at least not yet – and I don’t know what they’re planning to do to him, but this doesn’t look good…oh. Oh, shoot, Jamahn, I’ve got to go, they’re…”

“Pritha, wait,” Jamahn said, but she was already gone. He heard Blaise’s voice saying “I’m going to need a hand in here. Can one of you-” and then a muffled thump and a series of indecipherable sounds and faint voices. A few seconds later, Rochelle whispered into the phone, “Jamahn? You still there?”

“Yes, I’m still here.”

“Pritha just got called into the lab. Are you safe where you are?”

“For now, yes. I’m behind a house directly across from the picnic shelter. I parked on the next street over and cut through the backyards.”

“Good. Stay there, I’m coming out.”

* * *

“Look, I don’t care which one of you it is, just get in here,” Blaise said, gesturing between Pritha and Rochelle. The two scientists looked at each other, then back at Blaise. “Make it snappy, we don’t have all night.”

Rochelle gave Pritha a discreet but firm shove, and Pritha staggered forward in an attempt to remain upright, dropping her phone in the process. Rochelle bent quickly and picked it up, then stuffed it into the pocket of her lab coat.

“Fine, you’ll do, just _come on_.” Pritha glanced back at Rochelle, who waved her on and mouthed the word “go.” She hurried into the lab, Blaise guiding her forward with a tight grip on her shoulder.

“We’re going to need someone to draw blood, administer injections, all that,” Blaise said. “You should find everything you need over there.” He pointed to a collection bag, length of rubber tubing, and an array of hollow needles on a small rolling cart. Pritha nodded silently and, with a quick glance at Cecil, began to examine the supplies.

“What we’re trying to understand, Cecil,” Blaise said, with obviously strained patience, “Is _why_ you’re like this, how you came to be the way you are. Is this some sort of mutation? A surgical enhancement? Or is it evolution in action?”

Cecil sighed in exasperation. “Look, I can’t tell you anything that Lady Gaga hasn’t already tried to explain,” he said. “And frankly, I think it’s pretty rude of you to even ask. I mean, I’m not sitting here asking why you have such a stunted personality or why these two guys are so ugly, am I?”

One of the extremely large men pinning Cecil in his seat looked down at him with a hurt expression. “I’m sorry,” Cecil said, laying a hand on the man’s sleeve. “If it makes you feel better, I think you’re what might be called _beau-laid,_ you’re not conventionally attractive, but it’s working for you, if you see what I mean.”

“Thanks.”

“Oh for -” Blaise pressed fingertips into his temples. “You don’t want to explain, fine, we’ll just have to figure it out on our own. Lock him in, please, gentlemen.” The two men fastened the restraints at Cecil’s wrists and ankles.

“Hey, wait just a second,” Cecil protested, but the restraints had been locked in place.

“I’m sorry, Cecil, but we have a job to do, and you’re being difficult and highly distracting. Miss…doctor, whatever you are, I’m going to need you to collect blood for a full workup. But give him the shot first. It should be injected directly into a vein.”

“Pritha,” Pritha said. “And this bag is for collecting blood _donations_. Don’t you have any 10-mil sample tubes?”

“Get on with it, please, Pritha. The shot. Then the blood sample.”

She sat down next to Cecil and rolled the cart closer. Shirtless, with the electrodes stuck to him, he looked perfectly ordinary and a little helpless. If Pritha hadn’t seen him holding Carlos’s entire body in mid-air with a countless number of writhing tentacles, she would never have believed him capable of such a thing. She banished the memory and focused on the task at hand.

His arm was mostly straight along the armrest, but not quite. He had a large visible vein in the crook of his arm, but it would be easier if his arm were flat.

“This is going to be hard with the restraint on his wrist,” she said. “Could we remove it for the time being?”

“No,” Blaise said. “He stays locked in until we’re done. I don’t know what he is, but he’s dangerous.”

Pritha opened her mouth to point out that if he were going to do anything dangerous, he might have done so to prevent himself being locked in to the chair, but decided this observation was unlikely to change Blaise’s mind. 

“He doesn’t _look_ dangerous,” one of the two guards observed. “I mean…” he gestured at Cecil and shrugged. 

“I probably deserved that for calling you ugly,” Cecil sighed. 

“I would agree with you if it weren’t for the evidence on this tape,” Blaise said in response to the guard’s remark. “Pritha, is it? Hurry it up, please.”

“What’s in this shot?” she asked.

“Something to help Mr. Palmer be as cooperative as possible. It’s a harmless cocktail of muscle relaxants and chloral hydrate.”

“Chloral hydrate? How is he supposed to answer any questions if he’s knocked out?”

“It shouldn’t be enough to knock him out, just enough to keep him from moving around too much. And he’s already had a chance to answer our questions voluntarily. He declined. So we’ll just have to look for the answers ourselves. Please give him the injection now.”

“It doesn’t seem right,” Pritha said, shaking her head. “I don’t think- ”

Blaise withdrew a sleek black handgun from inside his lab coat and pointed it at Pritha. “StrexCorp isn’t paying you to think,” he said. “They’re paying you to do what I say. Now...give him the shot.”

“If you kill me, you’ll have to do this yourself,” Pritha said. She was terrified, but she didn’t seem to be able to control her mouth. _Shut up,_ she told herself. _What are you thinking? Just do as he says!_ But somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to give in so easily.

“Who said anything about killing anyone?” Blaise said. “There are plenty of places to shoot a person to inflict a great deal of pain without causing lethal damage.”

“It’s fine, Pritha,” Cecil said, sitting up a little straighter. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. Give me the shot.”

Pritha looked at him for a long moment. He met her gaze and nodded. She sat down with a sigh.

“Fine,” she said. “But just for the record, I quit. I’m being held against my will and I’m being forced to do this.”

“Whatever, we’ll call HR as soon as we’re done here, just get on with it.”

She tried to smile reassuringly as she swabbed the skin above the vein with alcohol. “Just a little pinch,” she said.

“I know,” Cecil murmured. He didn’t flinch as the needle sank home.

* * *

Jamahn looked across the street at the picnic shelter and at the guards arrayed at regular intervals along the street.

The best option, he decided, was to create a distraction – maybe by starting a fire, but he had to be careful. He couldn’t just set one of the houses on fire, and if he lit the dry brush running along the gully, it could all too easily burn out of control. He needed a dramatic but controllable burn, something that would create a lot of smoke but that could be extinguished easily. Something –

“Jamahn,” said a voice, as a hand touched his arm. He jumped and whirled around to find Rochelle standing behind him, panting.

“Jesus, you scared the shit out of me,” Jamahn said. “What’s up?”

“I tried to call, but your phone went straight to voicemail. They’ve started whatever they’re doing to Cecil. We’ve got to get Carlos out of here and back to the lab.”

“I know, but I’m not sure about the best way to do that,” Jamahn said. “A distraction for sure, maybe fire, but I hadn’t quite gotten to the ‘how’ part.”

“I’ve got the ‘how’ part right here,” Rochelle said, patting her messenger bag. “I raided the storage closet. Potassium chlorate and a ten-pound bag of gummy bears.”

Jamahn looked heartbroken. “You’re going to use my gummy bears?”

“We didn’t have a lot of options! Look, I’ll buy you a new bag.”

“Promise? Those are the special kind with real fruit juice. I had to order them special.”

“Any kind you want,” Rochelle promised. She gripped his shoulders and looked him in the eyes. “The gummy bears’ sacrifice will not be in vain, Jamahn. They’re helping us stop an evil corporation from doing something terrible to Carlos’s boyfriend. We owe Carlos after the, um, _confusion_ about his relationship with Cecil.”

Jamahn sighed. “You’re right. I guess if it’s a question of the gummy bears or Cecil…I have to go with Cecil.”

“Excellent. Now we just need a ‘where.’” They both scanned the street and the area surrounding the picnic pavilion.

“There,” Jamahn said. “See that barrel next to the picnic pavilion?” He pointed to a large metal trash barrel.

“Perfect. That should contain the reaction and allow the smoke to spread without setting anything else on fire.”

“ Do you want to go, or should I?”

“I’ll go,” Rochelle said. “You bring your car around so we can make a quick getaway. We’ll meet you…where?”

“Somewhere that isn’t too obvious. Don’t just run down the sidewalk. You two can exit out the back, come down behind that little hill and I’ll pick you up…right there.” He pointed.

“Okay,” Rochelle said, clapping Jamahn on the back as she set off. “If all goes according to plan, I’ll see you in a couple minutes.”

* * *

“It’s still not enough,” Blaise said, as Pritha moved to disconnect the blood collection bag. “Fill that bag to capacity.”

Pritha glanced back at Blaise in surprise. “But this bag holds 450 milliliters. We shouldn’t exceed…” she glanced at Cecil. “How much do you weigh?” she asked.

“What a question,” he said vaguely. “Honestly.” His head rolled back against the headrest. Whatever had been in the injection she had given him, it had made him very relaxed, but not any more cooperative. This minor act of resistance made her feel strangely proud of him.

Pritha looked him up and down and made a rough estimate. “We shouldn’t draw more than 170 milliliters in one day,” she said. “450 milliliters…that’s over 10% of his total blood volume. It’s far too much. Anything over 3% -”

“So he’ll be a little anemic. It’s not the end of the world.”

“What do you even _need_ all this for? The standard blood panel only requires 30 milliliters.”

“You’re curious all of a sudden.”

“I’m _concerned,_ ” Pritha said. “I’ll draw 170 milliliters, no more.”

“You’ll do what I tell you to,” Blaise replied coolly, “Or you’ll regret it. ”

Pritha bit back a tart reply and took hold of Cecil’s hand, which felt cold and clammy. “Hang in there,” she said. “Almost done.” He squeezed her hand gently in answer.

“Cecil,” Blaise said. “I’m going to give you another chance to come clean here. Is there anyone else like you in town? Was there anyone else like you in your family?”

“I really…don’t know,” Cecil replied. “It’s not like people just go around comparing their anatomy…not like you’d just _ask_ someone, is it?” His words were beginning to slur a little, and Pritha checked the bag. Almost full.

“We designed the condos to help people achieve their most perfect selves. Nobody ever leaves a condo until the process of self-perfection is done – sometimes not even then - and yet, you entered and left, and even managed to bring someone with you. We find that troubling. Didn’t you see a vision of your perfect self? Don’t you _want_ to be perfect?”

“All I saw…was horrible box full of lies...eating my boyfriend,” Cecil said, with difficulty.

“Does your, ah, monstrous anatomy emerge in response to something in particular? Is it a fight-or-flight reflex, or is it something to do with your feelings about the scientist, Carlos? Does it happen when you’re angry? Aroused?”

“Monstrous? Not very...nice....” he coughed.

“Oh well,” Blaise said. “I guess we just have to do this the hard way.” He walked over to the counter and began unpacking glass vials from a small stainless steel container labeled “StrexCorp Pharmaceuticals.”

“We’re going to stimulate a variety of physical responses to see what causes your extra appendages to emerge from wherever it is they’re hiding. We need to understand this, so we can adjust for it in our future endeavors. Nobody should have been able to leave the condos, Cecil.”

Cecil’s head had dropped back against the headrest again, and Pritha could see color draining from his face.

Pritha detached the bag and capped it, then applied pressure to Cecil’s inner elbow as she withdrew the needle. She quickly taped a cotton ball over the puncture and held it in place with her thumb. She laid one hand along the side of his face.

“He’s cold, and trembling,” she said. “I told you it was too much. I can’t advise giving him any more drugs, not in his current condition.”

“It’s not drugs,” Blaise said. “Just synthetic versions of the chemicals his body produces naturally.”

“Those are still drugs,” Pritha said, tactfully omitting the “You moron,” she had almost tacked on to the end of the sentence.

“We could start with the shock therapy if you’d rather do it that way,” Blaise said, “But I thought we’d start with the easy stuff and work our way up to electroshock if and when we need to.”

Pritha was stunned. “Electroshock?” she asked. “I don’t see how that’s warranted. What could that possibly tell you?”

“I don’t know,” Blaise said. “I suppose we’ll find out.”

“Hmm…” Cecil said, eyelids fluttering, head sagging to one side.

“He’s feeling the blood loss,” Pritha said. “At least let me get him some juice or something?”

“Time enough for that when we’re done here,” Blaise said. He arranged several hypodermic needles on the tray, each paired with its own vial of serum, and set the tray down next to Pritha. “Whenever you’re ready,” he said. He picked up the blood sample and placed it carefully in a container on the counter.

“What is this?” Pritha asked as she lifted the first needle from the tray.

“That’s not something you need to know,” Blaise said.

“It is, actually,” Pritha said. “I need to know how to administer it. If I do it wrong, it could kill him.”

“You’re just going to have to trust me. These are proprietary formulas, I’m not permitted to disclose their contents. Just start with that one on the end – yes, that one – and hurry up.” He gestured toward Cecil with the gun.

Pritha lifted the first needle from the tray and filled it from the rubber-sealed bottle. “I’m sorry,” she said, glancing up at Cecil. “I really don’t want to do this.”

Cecil opened his eyes with difficulty. “Probably had worse,” he managed to say. “Don’t worry about me.”

* * *

Rochelle shook her shoulder free of the guard’s grasp. “Jesus, what do you think I’m going to do?” she asked. “I walked right up to you. I _told_ you I needed to see Carlos. Fuck.” She shook her arm free and glared at the guard resentfully.

“Sorry,” the guard said, stepping back from Rochelle and looking sheepish.

“Thanks for the fucking escort,” she said, with a pointed glance over her shoulder. “You can go now.”

As the guard ambled back down to his post, Rochelle turned to Carlos. “Hi,” she said. “We’ve got to get you out of here before StrexCorp completely wrecks your boyfriend.”

Carlos stared at her, blinking, for about ten seconds. “Right,” he said. “What are we going to do?”

Rochelle opened her bag and carefully withdrew a small glass jar of sulfuric acid, a plastic bag containing white powder, and a huge bag of gummy bears. She placed each item on the picnic table and looked up at Carlos, one eyebrow cocked. “Jamahn and I figured we could throw them together in the trash barrel. What do you think?” she said. “It was the best we could do on short notice.”

“Oh, man, I wish I had the time or the frame of mind to enjoy this,” Carlos said.

“Right? I’ve done one gummy bear at a time before, but this…well. It should provide the diversion we need,” Rochelle said. “Jamahn will meet us right over there at the bottom of the hill.” She gestured with her chin.

“What about us?” asked one of the other scientists. “Are we just supposed to stay here or what?”

“I hoped you guys could run around in a feigned panic and obstruct the guards’ ability to come after us,” Rochelle said. “How about it?”

“Sure, no problem.”

“Great. Ready, Carlos?”

“God, yes,” Carlos said, collecting the potassium chlorate and moving discreetly toward the trash barrel. “What are they doing to him?”

“I don’t know, but they had video of him carrying you out of that condo. He…well, you know. Things got kind of tentacular in there. So they know about that.”

Carlos glanced at her, eyes wide. “Shit,” he said.

“Yeah, and they’ve installed some kind of sick-looking torture chair in the lab, so it’s not looking good. Pritha is with him, I’m hoping she can keep them from killing him until we get back.”

Carlos opened the bag and emptied the contents into the barrel. Rochelle opened the bag of gummy bears and poured them on top of the crystalline powder. Carlos carefully picked up the jar of sulfuric acid. “How are we going to do this without blowing ourselves up?” he asked.

“Here,” Rochelle said, holding out her hand. “I’ve got it.” Carlos handed her the jar and they both backed away from the barrel.

“Is anyone looking?” she asked.

“Nope, all clear.”

“Great.” She lifted the jar over her head and hefted it into the air like a basketball. It described a shallow arc as it careened into the barrel, where it landed with a crash. For about two seconds, there was a sizzling, crackling sound and then a huge pillar of purple flame erupted from the can, accompanied by an obliterating plume of acrid white smoke. The smoke tumbled out of the can and filled the pavilion, spreading quickly in a thick, blinding wave.

“Holy shit!” Said one of the other scientists, shielding his eyes and coughing. “How long will that go on?”

“Not long, just until it burns up all the sugars in the gummy bears,” Rochelle said. “You guys are on, try to hold them up as long as possible.”

“Will do,” said the scientist. The other scientist winked at her before throwing her arms up over her face and crying out, “My eyes! It burned my eyes!” and flailing into the path of the nearest oncoming guards. As Rochelle and Carlos watched, the remaining guards rushed to the sidewalk that led into the picnic shelter, leaving a small opening in the line of defense.

“Let’s go,” Rochelle said, tugging on Carlos’s sleeve. They bolted directly toward the burning barrel and disappeared into the smoke, running as fast as they could down the hill toward the rendezvous point.

Seconds later they tumbled into the backseat of Jamahn’s car, slamming the door behind them.

“Okay guys,” Jamahn said. “We got you out of there, but I still don’t quite see what we’re going to do about Strex and whatever it is they’re doing to Cecil.”

“Actually, I’ve been thinking about that,” Carlos said, as he fastened his seat belt. “I think we need to talk to the Sheriff.”

* * *

“Wow,” Cecil said, as Pritha depressed the plunger and the drug entered his vein. “That feels… _good._ ” Cecil’s face, which had been disconcertingly pale, regained some of its color, and his eyes seemed brighter. “Wow,” he said again. “Neat.”

Pritha listened to the EKG machine emitting a faint but regular _blip….blip….blip_. Cecil’s pulse remained steady, a little shallow, but that was hardly a surprise given the blood loss and the muscle relaxant. A minute passed, then another.

“Any physical changes?” Blaise demanded.

“Nothing I can see,” Pritha replied. “What is that one supposed to do?”

“It should induce a feeling of euphoria, among other things,” Blaise said. “He should feel very relaxed, but alert.”

Pritha studied Cecil’s face carefully. “Is that how you feel?”

“I feel...better?” Cecil said, a little uncertainly. “Warm. Misty.”

“Misty?” Pritha asked.

“But no tentacles,” Blaise interjected sharply. “Move along, please. Next.”

Pritha prepped the next needle. “What should we expect from this one?”

“This is likely to be a little more…intense,” Blaise replied, with an unpleasant smile.

Pritha held Cecil’s arm gently, met his eyes, and he nodded. She reluctantly injected the serum.

At first, there was no obvious change. After several minutes had passed, though, Cecil began to look uncomfortable. “Oh…” he said, as the drug took hold. His limbs stiffened and his head jerked back against the headrest. His breathing grew heavy and his skin shone with sweat; the EKG machine’s unobtrusive _blips_ sped up and stuttered. Pritha looked into Cecil’s eyes to gauge his pupillary response, and gasped.

“Cecil,” she said quietly. “Your _eyes._ ”

“I kn-know,” he gritted from behind clenched teeth. “It’s normal. For me.”

She stared in horror as the blackness at the center of his eyes diffused and spread across the irises and whites of his eyes.

“What’s happening?” Blaise demanded. “What’s wrong with his eyes?”

“Nothing, just a slightly abnormal pupillary response,” Pritha said, as calmly as possible. Cecil’s wrists and ankles chafed against the restraints as his body went rigid. His back arched and he groaned, eyes screwed shut.

“Give him the next dose,” Blaise said. “ _Do it,_ ” he added, when Pritha hesitated. “It goes into the muscle at his shoulder.”

“Pritha…it’s okay,” Cecil gasped. He twisted so he was looking at Blaise. “Don’t hurt her,” he said, his voice rough and barely audible.

“Nobody will be hurt, provided she continues to do as I say.”

Shaking her head with disapproval, Pritha readied the next shot. When her hand brushed against his skin he hissed a breath through his teeth and made an anguished sound deep in his throat.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “Cecil, I’m so sorry.”

“No… _I’m_ sorry,” he said. “I just…I feel so…” He groaned and trembled, teeth chattering.

She quickly punched the shot into Cecil’s upper arm.

It must have been painful, since the muscles of his upper arm were so tight, but he scarcely seemed to notice. He collapsed back into the chair as if all his muscles had suddenly gone slack. His eyes were now completely black, which gave the disconcerting impression that he was looking everywhere and nowhere at once. His breath came in harsh, shallow gasps, and when Pritha touched his hand, his skin felt hot. The EKG machine seemed to be going berserk, the _blips_ now a stammering chain of sound.

“No. No, this isn’t right,” Pritha said. “This is no better than the experiments the Nazis did in the concentration camps. I’m done, I won’t do any more.” She dropped the needle onto the cart.

“You will,” Blaise said, lifting the pistol. “Or else.”

“No I won’t,” Pritha said. “If you want to do anything else to him, you’re just going to have to do it yourself. Go ahead and shoot me if you want. I’m done.” She shoved the cart away and tested Cecil’s forehead with her palm. He was impossibly hot, and didn’t seem aware of her touch. He muttered incoherently and his head rolled limply from side to side as if his neck had been broken.

Pritha remembered how frightened she had been when she and Rochelle and Jamahn had first seen Cecil with Carlos, both men surrounded by coiling blue-black tentacles in the dim bedroom. It had seemed horrifying, incomprehensible. She would never have guessed that she would ever be involved in an experiment to force his tentacles to manifest, that she would fervently wish he were the monster he had appeared to be, that he could ever look so helpless and unfrightening.

“Cecil?” she said, but he didn’t answer. 

“Is he dead?”

“No, just unresponsive.”

“Good.” Blaise pushed her out of the way and she stumbled to the floor. “In that case, I’ll do the rest of it myself.” He set the gun down on the cart, selected a needle and pressed the tip into the rubber disc on the top of the next vial, pulling back the plunger to fill the reservoir.

“Hold her, please,” Blaise said to the two burly guards, and they each took hold of one of Pritha’s arms. She didn’t bother to struggle; she was surprised to find that she was too angry even to be frightened.

“What does that one do?” Pritha asked as Blaise injected it into Cecil’s arm.

“A variety of things,” he said. “It stimulates the pleasure centers of the brain, as well as the adrenal gland. It prompts the body to release larger than usual quantities of dopamine, serotonin and vasopressin. It’s time-released, the effects increase over a period of a few hours. It’s actually quite exciting, they originally developed it for - ” he shook his head, frowning. “Well, never you mind,” he said, darkly.

Those were all chemicals released in the brain during sex. Although Carlos had been vague about the details when he had explained (stammering and blushing the entire time) that Cecil had not, in fact, abducted and tortured him, the implication had been that they had been engaged in something entirely consensual and mutually pleasurable. Despite her concern and her disgust with the inhumane and invasive tests, she wondered if this injection might actually succeed in causing Cecil’s tentacles to manifest.

Cecil’s body jerked abruptly, startling both Pritha and Blaise. He let out a faint, prolonged sigh and arched his back against the chair, drawing his body tight against the restraints, then went limp again. For a long moment, he didn’t move at all, and then he suddenly gasped - it almost sounded like _pleasure_ \- and Pritha saw something moving beneath Cecil’s body.

“Oh my god,” Blaise said, standing so quickly that he knocked the stool over. He backed away, watching in horror as the sleek, blue-black tentacle stretched, shuddered, and rose up unsteadily.

Pritha felt the grip on one of her arms loosen the bigger of the two men restraining her took a step backward as well. “Oh, come on, you guys,” she said. “What a bunch of chickens.” The memory of herself, Rochelle and Jamahn tearing out of Carlos’s apartment on the first occasion when they had seen Cecil’s tentacles flashed across her mind, but she ignored the embarrassment she felt and added, contemptuously, “I thought this was what you wanted?”

“It is – it is,” Blaise stuttered. “It’s just…I didn’t really think…” He stared as a second tentacle followed the first, stretching sinuously into the air, slithering along Cecil’s arm, and looping around the restraining cuff at his wrist. It scarcely seemed to exert any pressure, but the semi-circular metal strap pulled free of the armrest with a shriek of forced metal. The strap fell to the floor with a _clang_. Cecil’s arm flopped over the side of the chair and hung limply. More tentacles emerged, slinking down to the remaining wrist cuff and ankle restraints.

“My _god,_ ” Blaise breathed. He froze in horror, but the two men on either side of Pritha had dropped her arms and were making for the door. Pritha shot them a disgusted look as she took a step toward Cecil.

Blaise didn’t even seem to notice, he was so focused on the graceful appendages emerging from Cecil’s body. One long, lean limb hovered toward him, swaying like a charmed cobra. Blaise took a lurching step backward, but too late – the tentacle flicked forward, whip-quick, and lashed itself around his wrist, twisting his arm behind his back. Several more raced forward and seized his arms and legs. Blaise screamed in terror, struggling against the restraint, but he seemed powerless, his resistance ineffectual. 

The tentacles bore him slowly but surely down to the ground, trembling slightly with the effort. They seemed at least partly independent; Cecil appeared to be unconscious, and the tentacles were clearly alert. Still, they seemed to be having difficulty holding Blaise down. Pritha had reason to know that they were normally capable of suspending him off the ground with little effort.

“For god’s sake,” Blaise said, glancing toward the metal cart, where he had left his gun. “Shoot him!”

“No,” Pritha said simply. “I like you just fine where you are, thanks. He could have killed you easily if he had wanted to.” As if in illustration of this fact, a smaller tendril coiled around the grip of the gun and moved it farther away from Blaise.

Still lying prone on the chair, Cecil gave a soft groan and tried to sit up. Pritha raced to his side. “Cecil?” But he slumped back down, eyes wide, gasping.

“What exactly was in those injections?” she said. “Tell me.”

“I don’t know!” Blaise whined. “I told you, the formulations are proprietary – ow!” he squealed in pain as a tentacle knocked his head against the floor. “Any effects should wear off in 24 hours,” he said. “Or,” and now he managed to tilt his head so he was looking at her, “You could give him the last one. It would counteract the effects of the others.”

“Yeah, thanks, but I don’t think so,” Pritha said.

“Nobody is doing anything else to Cecil,” said a voice from the doorway. Carlos shoved the door open and ran to Cecil’s side. Several Sheriff’s Secret Police officers stepped into the room, staring at the tableau before them for only an instant before moving to subdue the struggling Blaise. Cecil’s tentacles retracted in evident relief. Blaise cried out in protest as the officers cuffed his hands behind his back.

Carlos pressed a hand to Cecil’s damp forehead. “Cecil? Are you okay? What did they do to him?” he demanded of Pritha.

“They collected a very large blood sample. He’s been injected with five different drugs, but I don’t know exactly what any of them were.”

“Carlos?” Cecil whispered, opening his jet black eyes. “Oh, Carlos, you came. You’re here…” his body moved in bizarrely inconsistent ways, shivering, twitching, and then writhing in long, sinuous undulations. Carlos took Cecil’s hands in his and began plucking the electrodes off of him, tossing them on the floor.

“He’s cold, and pale...Pritha - the break room - cookies, juice, soda, anything? Please?”

“Of course.” 

“Nobody is going anywhere,” Blaise said, pointlessly, from the floor. “This examination is a priority item for our management this quarter. I have very clear instructions on what needs to be done.”

“Take it up with the SSP,” Carlos suggested. He turned to the officers. “This man detained me and part of my team in the Desert Creek subdivision, then forcibly restrained my boyfriend and subjected him to some kind of sick experimentation.”

“And he held me here against my will and forced me to perform medical procedures on Cecil,” Pritha added, as she hurried back into the lab, a Coke and a packet of off-brand fig cookies in hand. She handed the cookies to Carlos and opened the soda can, tipped it up so Cecil could drink.

Blaise laughed. “You expect the SSP to care? We’ve heard all about them, even in Desert Bluffs. They do things like this, and more, all the time.”

“Maybe, but StrexCorp cut corners,” Carlos said. “It turns out you never completed the necessary paperwork.”

Blaise snorted in disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding,” he said. “That form is 79 pages long. Nobody has time to complete that kind of paperwork. Honestly, I don’t see how anyone gets anything done in this town.”

“Nobody does,” said one of the SSP officers, shoving him forward. “Unless they complete the requisite forms.”

Carlos got an arm around Cecil’s shoulders and pulled him upright. Cecil sagged against him. “I’m taking him home. Pritha, is that blood sample from Cecil? Would you please make sure it gets incinerated?” He gestured at the collection bag sitting in the tray on the counter.

“No problem,” she said.

“You’re under arrest for violation of Section 499.959, Part 743 of the official by-laws of the City of Night Vale,” said the lead SSP officer. “Unauthorized medical experimentation, failure to complete forms 547 through 626 requesting approval to conduct invasive tests on human subjects, and holding employees longer than 8 hours without allowing them their OSHA-mandated 15-minute breaks.”

“This is insane. We’re buying the Sheriff’s Secret Police. We own all of you, too!”

“Not yet you don’t,” said the officer, heaving Blaise out of the lab.

Carlos pulled Cecil close and they staggered out of the room, out of the main office, and into the parking lot. Carlos spotted Cecil’s car and found his key in his pants pocket.

“Are you okay, sweetie?” Carlos asked as he lowered Cecil into the backseat of the car. “How do you feel?”

“Tired,” Cecil said. “A little dizzy. And...just _incredibly_ turned on.”

* * *

“So what happened here?” Rochelle asked as they watched the SSP officers lead Blaise away.

Pritha gestured at Blaise. “He had a gun. He forced me give Cecil a bunch of drugs. He said something about the condos, and how Strex engineered them so no one could leave once they’re inside. Or at least, they couldn’t until they were ‘perfect,’ whatever that means.”

“I didn’t know Strex was behind the condos,” Jamahn said. “I thought that was just normal Night Vale weirdness.”

“No one knew,” Pritha said. “But yeah, they had video of Cecil getting Carlos out of the condo, and Blaise said he needed to understand how Cecil’s tentacles worked so they could guard against that in the future or something. It was awful, but Cecil was so…well, it sounds cheesy, but he was so _brave._ I think I understand what Carlos sees in him.”

They stood in silence for a moment, watching as Blaise was shoved into the backseat of a police car.

“Did you figure it out?” Rochelle asked. “What’s up with the tentacles?”

“Rochelle!” Pritha said, outraged.

“I’m sorry, I’m curious!” Rochelle protested. “I mean…come on, we’re scientists.”

Pritha sighed and shrugged. “I don’t know if the tentacles manifested because of one of the drugs we gave him or out of self-defense or what. Cecil said…” she smiled, remembering. “He said he was just born that way. At least, I think that’s what he meant, and as far as I’m concerned, that’s all the explanation we need.” She turned to the other two scientists. “How did you guys get Carlos out of the Desert Creek subdivision?”

“We created a diversion,” Jamahn said. “The cost was high – my entire ten-pound bag of gummy bears. But it worked.”

“Nice,” Pritha said. “I just hope StrexCorp isn’t feeling vindictive after all this. Although I’m pretty sure I quit a little while ago.”

“If StrexCorp is really our boss now,” Rochelle said, putting an arm around Pritha, “We’re probably all fucking fired anyway.”

* * *

Carlos half-carried Cecil into the house and settled him gently in bed, kneeling to remove his shoes and socks. Tentacles brushed against him, but he made an effort not to respond to them. “Cecil, tell them to stop,” he said. “You’re in no condition to do anything but rest.”

“Hmmm…” Cecil said, as tentacles twined around Carlos’s waist. “They’re exhausted, I think I used up whatever I had left restraining Blaise...but...can’t help it. Need you.”

“You can hardly move,” Carlos pointed out. “Your body is completely limp.”

“Not completely,” Cecil countered, pulling Carlos closer. Carlos’s legs bumped the edge of the bed and he almost collapsed on top of Cecil. He pushed himself off to one side, but not before he noticed that indeed, Cecil was not _completely_ limp.

Cecil laboriously rolled onto his side, facing Carlos. “Please,” he said, his voice slow and sleepy. “I don’t know what they gave me, but…ohh…it’s so frustrating…I want to…but it’s so hard to move.” His eyes were black slits in his ashen face. He had eaten the rest of the cookies on the car ride home and had assured Carlos that he would be fine, but Carlos was still unsure.

“Leave it to you to endure some kind of heinous medical torture and view it as foreplay,” Carlos said. “But...I don’t know. It wouldn’t really be right, would it?”

Tentacles came to rest around Carlos’s body, scooting him closer to Cecil. “Carlos…I would want you anyway, you know that.”

“I don’t know,” Carlos said, but his hands were resting on Cecil’s chest, and he was leaning closer. “I really should have taken you to the hospital. Are you _sure_ you’re going to be okay?”

“Sure,” Cecil mumbled wearily. “…should have seen what the local Blockbuster used to do if you returned a tape late…this was nothing.” He blinked his bright black eyes one time, slowly, and on a hiccupping breath, said, “Please, Carlos...I…” 

Carlos kissed him softly, relieved to note that Cecil was, at least, able to return the kiss. Carlos trailed fingers down Cecil’s bare chest, past his navel, and Cecil gave a whimpering “Mmph,” as if he had just taken a blow. 

Cecil let his head fall forward, catching Carlos’s mouth again, kissing him with sumptuous abandon. They breathed together, hitching rasps getting quicker as their pulses beat harder. Cecil’s skin began to warm, and he smelled nice; a little spicy, a little salty, familiar and inviting. Carlos’s throat went dry and his resolve crumbled. 

He hooked his fingers over the waistband of Cecil’s trousers, slid his hand inside, found him hard and practically twitching. Cecil groaned ecstatically, tentacles unfurling and spreading out around him on the bedspread. Cecil was never _entirely_ helpless, but even the tentacles seemed more listless than usual, lazy and directionless, their deep blue-black tint a little faded. Carlos felt an unexpected thrill at the thought of Cecil’s strong, strange, beautiful body at his mercy. 

“Oh, look at this...it’s like a housewarming present,” Carlos said, smiling wickedly as he shimmied Cecil’s pants down over his hips. “It’s an improbably good-looking radio host… I know _just_ what to do with him.” 

“I s-see what you did there…oh _god_ …”

“Wait til you see what I’m going to do next,” Carlos whispered. He kissed his way up Cecil’s inner thigh, and Cecil tilted his hips reflexively as Carlos dragged his tongue along the length of him, finally taking him into his mouth with a muffled hum, slipping his other hand between Cecil’s legs, circling, pressing ever-so-slightly inside.

Cecil was so hard, so sensitive and so helpless that he couldn’t hold back at all. It took almost no time to deliver him to the brink. Tentacles twisted into the bedspread as Cecil cried out and came, and for a moment or two Carlos thought that might be it for tonight – Cecil had been through the wringer, and now that his drug-induced arousal was relieved…well.

But it _wasn’t_. Carlos had pulled Cecil into his arms, and now felt the unmistakable, unrelieved hardness pressing into his thigh.

“Carlos…” Cecil moaned, his body quivering under Carlos’s hands. “ _Please…_ ”

The way Cecil writhed and moaned, drug-induced or not, sent a sharp bolt of desire racing along Carlos’s nerves. Carlos knew that Cecil must feel how he so often felt when Cecil held him pinned and wanting; he was desperate for release, unable to resist. The thought of it made Carlos even hotter, made the feeling building in him escalate in a breathtaking rush. 

He rolled over and fumbled in the drawer of the nightstand, clicked open the cap on a bottle of lube, and hesitated. He turned back to Cecil so they were face to face, and took him in his arms. He kissed him lightly, kneeled astride his legs and again began circling the entrance to his body. “Is this...is this what you want?”

“God, yes,” Cecil said. “ _Yes_.” 

Carlos hitched one of Cecil’s legs up over his shoulder, slipped one finger into him, then two. The drugs they had given Cecil had left his muscles loose and unresisting, but Carlos took his time nonetheless, watching Cecil’s hands and tentacles tightening in the sheets with increasing frustration. 

“Please...Carlos...don’t be gentle,” Cecil begged, and Carlos felt his arousal overtopping his self-control. 

“I won’t.” He drenched himself in lube and lined himself up against Cecil’s trembling body, and the goosebumps that pricked his own skin. Cecil cried out wordlessly as he pushed inside, and Carlos gasped because the resistance was less than he had expected, and he slotted in deep, the sweet shock of it sending starbursts into Carlos’s brain. 

Tentacles clung to him, but not as they sometimes did, when Cecil would hold him down (or up, as often happened), bound and helpless. Now they held loosely around his waist, trailed along his arms and legs, affectionate and submissive as puppies. 

“So needy,” Carlos gasped out. “Wanting and begging like a baby bird.” And somehow speaking this little observation aloud made him burn, rough and hot, and the way Cecil moaned in shameless enjoyment made it worse. Carlos reached tentatively toward Cecil’s hair, brushed his fingertips lightly against it, and then, finding his resolve, sank his fingers in and tugged, hard. 

“Yes, _yes,_ like that, that’s - _ohhh_..”

He shoved Cecil’s head back roughly, scraped his teeth against the column of his throat. Cecil’s hands fisted into the soft pillow and he made a weak attempt to thrust back against Carlos.

“Don’t worry,” Carlos said, gripping Cecil’s hip hard and drove in deep, eliciting a shaky cry from Cecil. “I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t remember anything else that happened tonight.” He pulled out, slammed back in again, and knew he had hit a sweet spot when Cecil practically wailed and started to shiver around him. 

The bed squeaked beneath them as he pounded into Cecil, as they both panted and groaned, and Carlos clenched his teeth and closed his eyes. Cecil’s body was slick, sucking tight around him, and the sounds Cecil was making were _god_ so unbelievably hot, and Carlos felt all the anger and frustration and fear that had accumulated throughout his harrowing day focus into a hot beam of _need._

“F-fuck - yes- Carlos - sogood - _ah_...”

Carlos pulled Cecil’s other leg up around his hip, and Cecil crossed his ankles behind Carlos’s back, taking him in so completely he twitched and had to clench his teeth . Cecil had wound a tentacle around himself, and Carlos brushed it aside, taking Cecil’s cock in his own hand, slickening it from the tip down, pumping in time with the movement of his hips until he heard Cecil’s whimper and knew his orgasm was close.

For a flickering second Carlos considered stopping, dragging it out a little longer, but Cecil clasped his shoulders tight and he felt his control disappear. Instead he pushed in harder, faster, deeper, and kept going and going until he felt Cecil’s cock jerk against the palm of his hand as his body tightened and spasmed around Carlos, and he let go, unable to stop it, , his cries mingling with Cecil’s until he collapsed forward, chest heaving, breath stuttering.

As his senses returned, Carlos lowered himself down to the mattress, gathered Cecil against his chest and smoothed his hair, felt Cecil’s head bumping gently against his chest in time with his hammering heart. They were silent for a long time, and Carlos was relieved to note that Cecil seemed sated for the time being, no longer twitchy and restless. He caressed Cecil’s shoulders, slid hands down his sides, and noted that his tentacles didn’t seem about to retract.

“Cecil?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t the tentacles usually retire afterward?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Cecil answered drowsily. 

“So then why…?”

“Blaise said one of the last things they gave me would last, possibly get more intense, over the course of several hours,” Cecil said, snuggling closer. 

“So you might… _again?_ ”

“Yes, but the muscle relaxant is starting to wear off, so at least there’s that.”

Carlos half-groaned, half-laughed. “I wonder what StrexCorp’s policy is on sick leave.”

“I expect they’re probably complete fascists about it.”

“Probably.” Another long silence.

“Cecil?”

“Mm-hmm?”

“With all the cameras and surveillance and all in Night Vale, how come nobody in town ever tried to study you before, to figure out how your tentacles work? I mean…” he gestured toward the wall camera. “Somebody has an interesting work life, reviewing these tapes. It seems like the kind of thing they’d want to know.”

“I don’t know,” Cecil said, interest piqued. “Of course, it’s possible they _did_ and I just blacked it out in an act of self-preservation,” he said. “But I think it’s more likely that everyone in Night Vale knows that some things are better being misunderstood, or never understood at all.”

“So people here are content to let some mysteries remain mysterious?”

“That was the motto of the Night Vale High School Science Club, after all. _Noli respicere vivum reseco, ut mordeant te._ ‘Do not look too closely, it might bite you.’”

Carlos laughed and kissed the top of Cecil’s head. “Should I be worried?” he asked, a little huskily.

“Oh, absolutely,” Cecil said. “Here there be monsters.”


	2. Epilogue

Carlos awoke at the end of Cecil’s regular morning coffee preparation ritual, just in time to hear the last few blows of the coffee hammer and the most insulting of the hateful chants. He sat up slowly, feeling sore in a variety of places - some more surprising than others - and swung his feet over the side of the bed. It was still early, but judging by the slatted square of light on the bedroom wall, it was still hours past the time he usually rose. 

He rubbed his hands over his face and shoved his hair out of his face, pulled on a pair of boxers and shambled into the kitchen. 

Cecil was leaning against the counter next to the coffee maker, hair rumpled, chest bare, smudges under his eyes. There was a dark bruise in the crook of his arm where the blood had been drawn and the majority of the injections had been given. He should have looked exhausted, but instead he looked shabbily glamorous, a louche rakehell after a late night on the town rather than the victim of sinister medical experiments. Carlos smiled and kissed his stubbled cheek as he drew a glass of water from the tap.

“You look like a rock star,” Carlos said. “All tousled and sexy.” 

“Hmmm.” Cecil caught him around the waist and pulled him close, smoothing his hair away from his face, stroking one thumb along his cheek, then kissing him with great deliberation on the mouth.

Carlos made a small sound of protest as water spilled from the glass he was holding, but Cecil ignored it, opening his mouth against Carlos’s, hot and wet. His hands dropped to Carlos’s ass and pulled him flush against his hips.

“Cecil, I don’t even think I _can_...are you still-” Carlos gasped, but Cecil caught his face and pulled him back, kissed him hard, slid one thigh between Carlos’s legs and rocked against him.

Carlos wrapped his free arm around Cecil to steady himself. A tentacle twined around the water glass and set it down on the counter with a rap before slithering into Carlos’s boxers. 

“Cecil…” he said, reluctantly, as Cecil bent to lick and nibble his way down Carlos’s neck. Clearly the drugs were still in Cecil’s system, and of course he wanted to help, but this was getting ridiculous. 

“Carlos,” Cecil whispered, flicking one nipple to stiffness with his tongue before moving to the other. “I will _make you_ want it, don’t worry.”

“I really don’t think you can, at this point.”

Cecil stood up straighter, met Carlos’s gaze, one eyebrow lifted. “Oh no?”

“No,” Carlos said flatly. “I’m tired, and I’m sore, and...I’m just spent, sweetie. I mean, _five times_ in the last four hours? It’s just too much. Let's just go back to bed, okay?”

“Carlos...please?"

Carlos hesitated. "Is it really that bad?"

"It really is...but if you're really not up for it, of course I can...just try to handle it myself, or something." But Cecil was staring at him, and tentacles were caressing their way along the insides of his thighs like erotic kudzu. He tried to twitch his leg free but they clung.

“Fine,” Carlos sighed. “You have five minutes to make me want it.” He leaned over and turned the oven timer five clicks to the right, straightened his shoulders as if standing before a firing squad. “Do your worst.”

Cecil glanced at the timer, then back at Carlos, eyes raking him up and down. “You don't think I can do it?”

“Under normal circumstances, of course you could, but right now...no. I don’t think you can. And time’s wasting.” He glanced over at the timer, looked back...and his feet were no longer on the ground.

Tentacles wrapped his arms and legs and lifted him up to the countertop, pulling his arms behind him and his legs apart. Cecil stepped between his legs and stopped just shy of the edge of the counter, eyes dark with promise. 

“Not only will I make you want it,” he said. “I’m going to make you beg for it, and I’m going to do it with both hands behind my back,” he said, suiting his actions to his words by clasping his hands behind him. 

“In fact, I won’t touch you at all. I don’t need to.” The tentacles pulled away, hovered around Cecil’s body, arched and avid. “Because I know what you like. We discovered it our very first time, how much you like me to hold you down and have my way with you.” Behind him, the tentacles practically quivered with desire.

“I’d be gentle,” Cecil rumbled, tracing one finger through the air just above Carlos’s thigh, from his hip to his knee. “Like you said, we’ve been at it all night, you deserve a little tenderness, a little consideration. I’d start slow, but I’m already so…” he heaved a shuddering breath, “So very, very ready for you...not _too_ slow. I think I’d like to lick you and kiss you and bite you all along here…” the finger made the return trip, knee to groin, never making contact, “And here.” His finger traced the same path along his other leg.

“Your skin is so sensitive here, so soft,” Cecil made a small circle at the top of Carlos’s inner thigh, the vulnerable place half-covered by the thin fabric of Carlos’s boxers. “It tickles a little at first, when I kiss you there, when I just barely let my lips touch you, when I ghost right over your skin, it gives you goosebumps. And when I think about you getting goosebumps, about you having an involuntary, uncontrollable response to something I did to you...it turns me on,” Cecil bit his lip. “The thought of pushing you beyond your control turns me on a lot.” The way Cecil closed his eyes and let his head drop back as he imagined the little scene he was painting, the way his voice had gone all hoarse, made Carlos catch his breath despite himself. 

“Some parts of me always know just what they want to do with you,” Cecil said, and one lithe prehensile limb stretched out, wrapped around Cecil’s finger. He raised it to his mouth, sucked lightly, and the little frond shivered with delight. “When it gets this bad, it's hard to rein them in. They’d wind around you, stretch you out and hold you down for me, so you’d be...well, helpless. Helpless to resist, helpless to stop me, helpless to do anything but lie there and take it, take all the pleasure I could lavish on you. And there would be So. Very. Much.” 

His voice dropped, his eyes grew even blacker, and Carlos could feel it, the sensation of Cecil’s lips on his soft skin, the firm, warm grip of tentacles at his ankles and wrists, how vulnerable and open he would be. Every time Cecil said the word “helpless,” he felt a small, corresponding shock in his body, as if Cecil’s voice resonated with his sexual core. He stirred despite himself, leaning forward almost imperceptibly.

“Kissing you,” Cecil said, drifting closer, staring at Carlos's mouth, “I’d be….” his voice got rough, hitched, “I’d be kissing you in the hottest, wettest, dirtiest way possible, we’d be having a conversation, mouth to mouth, about all the filthy things I want to do to you, all the other parts of you I want to lick, and suck, and fuck. And while I was kissing you I’d touch you, too - touch you here,” his palm hovered over Carlos’s crotch, so close Carlos could swear he felt the heat of it, so close he could inch forward and he'd be in Cecil's hand, “and here,” and now his hand dropped lower. 

“I don’t know if you know it, but the feel of your skin, the vibrations of your voice, the heat of your mouth, all of that feels amazing on these.” The tentacles wiggled behind him in illustration, leaning closer, as if they yearned to touch Carlos, and Cecil was only holding them back with an effort. “It’s hard, sometimes, to hold back at all, especially when you’re so impatient, making those little noises you make when you want more, faster, everything, all of it, now…” Cecil groaned out the last few words, and inhaled sharply, undulating his hips against the counter.

“It makes me feel like a fucking teenager, like I could go off if you looked at me, and I have to stop for a few seconds every now and then to get myself under control. I force myself to wait, to make it last, because the longer I hold back the better it is. So I can’t let you touch me - not yet, not at first, I'd go off like a bottle rocket. Instead, I’d put my mouth on you, feel how much harder you get when I lap and suck and lick and twist around you with my tongue, get you all worked up and hot and scrambled and then I’d maybe slide a tentacle into your mouth, let you get it slick and ready and then…” his eyes dropped eloquently to the lower part of Carlos’s body, and it was as thrilling as a touch.

Gently,” he said, his voice soft. “I know how raw you must feel today, how used. But I also know how you like that, how some part of you craves it, being taken like that. Still, I’d be gentle at first. I’d stretch you out on the table,” he glanced back at the kitchen table. “I’d let you get close, Carlos, so close, so close...ah,” he shifted, pressed his hand between his legs. “But I wouldn’t be able to wait, I’d need to be in you, and…” he paused, and his hands were shaking. “I think this is backfiring on me,” Cecil said, with a breathy laugh, shoving one trembling hand through his hair. “I’m so fucking turned on, and this is only making it wor-” he got no further. Carlos crushed his mouth over Cecil’s with a moan, wrapping his legs around Cecil’s hips. 

“You did it,” Carlos whispered. "I really didn't think...but as soon as you started to talk..."

"I didn’t really. The timer’s been going off for at least a minute.”

Carlos turned in surprise and saw that indeed, the timer had clicked back to zero and was buzzing steadily. He had been so caught up in Cecil’s spell he hadn’t even heard it. 

“Fuck it,” he said, kissing Cecil again, grinding against him, sinking his fingers into his hair and pulling him closer. Cecil slid him off the counter and tugged down his boxers as he dropped to his knees in front of him.

Carlos sighed as Cecil took him into his mouth, nearly bent double as Cecil hollowed his cheeks and moved his tongue in long sure strokes along the underside of his cock. He gripped Cecil’s shoulders for balance until he felt the eager clasp of tentacles around his wrists and ankles. They tightened, his breath came in short sips, and he felt lightheaded as blood surged to the point where Cecil’s lips met his skin.

Then there was the hard wooden surface of the kitchen table beneath his back, Cecil’s hands on his thighs. The faint, ticklish pressure of Cecil's lips and tongue on the delicate skin of his upper thigh, making him laugh and gasp and tremble with want. He sucked in a breath as something slick and pliable slipped inside him, exhaled with a delirious groan. He felt the stretch and burn a little more than usual, but the pain and pleasure muddled together, all the nerves in his lower body tingling in unified anticipation. 

When Cecil licked the length of him and took him to the back of his throat again, Carlos’s hands scrabbled at the table, gripping the edges as his back arched and his hair stood on end. It was good, very good, but somehow...not quite _enough_. The tentacle inside him was motionless, not thrusting like he wanted, like he _needed,_ and if Cecil would just go a little faster...he held the edge of the table and pushed himself down, trying to take the tentacle deeper, moaning in frustration for Cecil to go faster.

Instead, devastatingly, Cecil pulled away. Carlos wanted to pound his fists on the tabletop, but his hands were lashed down by strong ropelike limbs and all he could do was whimper and thrash against the restraints, staring at Cecil in hopeful anguish. Cecil smiled at him and kicked off his pajama pants - an oddly humorous moment; the jet-eyed tentacle creature in fluffy pajama bottoms, this never happened on _Star Trek_ \- and stepped closer, leaned over his prone body, and kissed him voluptuously as he - oh, yes, _god_ yes finally - pressed inside,all the way, right to the sweet spot.

“Don’t you dare stop again,” Carlos groaned, “Don’t you dare, Cecil Gershwin Palmer, or so help me I will….oh, so - _god, so_ good- ah! N-need m-more, _ah_ , p-please don’t s-st-stop!”

“I can’t...I won’t,” Cecil rasped, driving in deep, over and over, hands planted flat on the table on either side of Carlos’s chest. The table squeaked and shook and Carlos worried, fleetingly, about it shaking apart underneath them, but he knew that even if it did he would beg Cecil to keep fucking him in the wreckage and splinters be damned. 

Carlos’s whole body felt electric, his nerves close to the surface, his cock hard and sore and wanting, but neglected and painfully lonesome. He needed climax like air, and he writhed and shifted, taking Cecil deeper, desperate for additional stimulation, because he was so, so ready and yet not... _quite...there...yet_. He moved his hips, meeting Cecil thrust for thrust, making each plunge into his body harder, gaining a small amount of friction against his aching cock but _still_ not enough to get off. He was a mess, so desperate, crying out with every thrust inside him, whimpering and moaning and bucking his hips. “So close, _so_ close, f-fuck, so fucking close but I _can’t_ …”

And then a friendly warmth engulfed him, stroking up and down, and Carlos closed his eyes and saw stars. His body spasmed and twitched and his hips lifted reflexively, the continuous pressure of Cecil inside him making everything harder and sharper and _more_. He felt it when Cecil went over with a tremulous groan, his last few thrusts almost making Carlos shout, his body was so exquisitely sensitized. The pressure of Cecil's cock inside and the nimble pulsing tendril around his own prick was almost too much, the full-body clench of orgasm felt like it might snap him in half.

He panted and felt his muscles ticking back to relaxation like a hot engine cooling, felt himself settle back into his body. Once he was aware of his surroundings again, he found Cecil collapsed on his chest, tousled hair tickling his nose, and the oven timer still buzzing its tinny mechanical buzz. He discovered the fiddlehead end of one tentacle curled affectionately in his open hand and closed his fingers around it for a moment before it drew away, slowly retracting once more into Cecil’s body. 

Cecil glanced up at him and Carlos smiled, smoothing his mussed hair away from his forehead. To his relief, he saw that Cecil’s eyes were finally clearing of their inky stain. Cecil looked spent, tired, flushed, like he had spent the night engaged in an orgy of epic debauchery, but overall none the worse for wear. 

A faint, crystalline _ping_ sounded over the noise of the oven timer.

“Well, the coffee’s ready,” Cecil said, yawning hugely and glancing at the coffee maker. “But if it’s all the same to you...let's just go back to bed.”


End file.
